


Let's All Start Living for the One That's Going to Last

by norskheks



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Overhearing Sex, POV Marcy Brewer, Thirsty Bottom Patrick Brewer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norskheks/pseuds/norskheks
Summary: Five times Rachel spends the night at the Brewers', and one time David does.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel
Comments: 20
Kudos: 229





	Let's All Start Living for the One That's Going to Last

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this plot bunny hopping around in my head for about a week, so I finally figured out how to make it happen. Apologies to poor sweet Marcy.
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. Title from "Changes IV" by Cat Stevens, from _Teaser and the Firecat_.

~~1~~

"Come on, Rach," Patrick whispers to his girlfriend who's barely clinging to consciousness on the couch as the end credits of a movie roll on the TV screen. "Let's go to bed."

Marcy comes in from the kitchen and gives her son as stern a look as she can muster.

"Mom," he says, in a tone that implies he's hoping for her approval but not asking for it, "it's late. We're sleepy. And we're eighteen."

"Fine," she says, brandishing a wooden spoon, "but _just_ sleeping, you hear me?"

"Okay, Mom," he says, getting up to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Good night."

"Good night, you two," she replies, giving a kind glance to Rachel as she stands up, rubs her eyes, and stretches.

"Night, Mrs. Brewer," she responds, trying not yawn.

Marcy's heart swells with affection for her son and his sweet girlfriend. She's not really worried, but she's got to at least put on the façade of being protective of their purity to honour her Irish Catholic roots.

She finishes prepping tomorrow's dinner and hovers near Patrick's door before joining her husband in their bedroom. She hears the slow, deep, even breaths of sleep, and she feels a tiny bit guilty for being so strict. After all, you're only young once.

~~2~~

Marcy isn't usually up this late these days, but she's been having trouble sleeping. Truth be told, she's been worried about Patrick. He's had his first big fight with Rachel, and he's been miserable for days.

So she can't find it in her to be mad when he comes in the door after midnight, Rachel's hand in his, the two of them giggling as they make their way upstairs.

He almost doesn't see her sitting on the couch with her cup of tea, but then he does.

"Mom!" he gasps, startled.

She grins over her mug. "Behave, you two," she warns, but there's no severity behind the words.

"Okay, Mom," Patrick says, but he's blushing, and Rachel is giggling even harder as they rush up to his room, and she suspects they're going to take advantage of the vagueness of her instructions.

She goes up to bed after her show ends. Clint is long since asleep, so he doesn't hear the noises from the other side of the wall that are making her blush.

It's really quite tame, but audible all the same, the hushed ragged feminine panting giving away Rachel's pleasure. Marcy puts her earbuds in and plays some music, pushing away the odd not-quite-welcome thought that she's proud of her boy for not being selfish in bed. After a couple songs she tentatively pauses and takes them out, and she finds the house is silent once again.

She sleeps more soundly than she has in days, knowing that Patrick and Rachel have patched things up and she won't have to helplessly watch her son mope around the house anymore.

~~3~~

Rachel is there for Patrick's college graduation, him having attended hers the week prior. Marcy is incredibly proud of both of them. They both have jobs waiting for them, which she understands is rare these days. They're discussing moving in together. It should be one of the happiest days of Patrick's life. And he's smiling, but... he just seems so _tired_.

Marcy attributes it to finals, the stress of saying goodbye to his college friends, and the knowledge that he won't have a flexible schedule for much longer.

They have family (and Rachel) over for dinner after the ceremony. Rachel insists he keep his black robes and honors cords on because he looks so handsome and distinguished in them (and Marcy can't disagree), but he convinces her to let him take the cap off. He's let his hair grow out a bit this year, and the reveal of his short but defined curls when he takes off the cap is stunning. Rachel runs her fingers through it every chance she gets, and Patrick seems to tolerate it. Marcy used to do the same thing when he was little, and he never liked it then either.

When Rachel starts yawning after dinner—before Patrick, despite the dark circles under his eyes—Marcy says, "Patrick, why doesn't Rachel stay over? It's late."

"Okay, Mom," he says, and she hates that she can't decipher his face. Gratitude, maybe, but there's something else, too.

"Thanks, Marcy," Rachel says, and soon everyone goes to bed, wiped out from a full day.

She hears them through the wall as she's falling asleep.

"Ow! Stop pulling my hair."

"But it's so sexy...."

"Well, it _hurts_."

"I'm sorry. Hey, how about we... celebrate?"

A sigh. "I'm sorry, Rach, I'm just... tired. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Okay."

Marcy is relieved she doesn't have to hear anything else, but she can hear the sting of rejection in Rachel's voice, and her heart breaks a little bit for her.

~~4~~

It's the first Christmas since Patrick proposed to Rachel, and it's the first Christmas Eve that Rachel has spent with the Brewers. Her parents had come as well. Apparently it's usually a quiet evening with just the three of them, so Patrick had invited his future in-laws to join the big Christmas Eve bash with Marcy's entire extended family.

Marcy thinks Rachel's parents must have been overwhelmed, because they had fish-out-of-water expressions on their faces the whole evening, and they left fairly early. Rachel, on the other hand, seems to be in her element and stays, promising her parents she'll be home in time to open presents in the morning.

After the last of her siblings, cousins, nieces, and nephews abscond, Marcy, Clint, Patrick, and Rachel help clean up. The kids have obviously indulged in quite a bit of spiked eggnog, but they're not far gone enough to make things worse, so Marcy lets them help.

"Remember," she tells them as they head up to bed and Marcy starts getting out the stockings to fill, "Santa won't come until you're asleep."

"Okay, Mom," Patrick says, rolling his eyes. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, you two."

She fills the stockings—including one for Rachel—and hangs them on the mantel while Clint finishes the dishes. They turn off the lights and head to bed, and are brushing their teeth together in their en suite bathroom as they hear it.

"Mmm, mm, _oh_ , Patrick..."

"Shhh, Rach, we have to be quiet here!"

"Mmm, stop fucking me so good, then." 

" _Jesus_ , Rach, I will if you don't shut up!"

"Fine!"

But Rachel's now-quieter moans don't stop as Marcy and Clint finish brushing and rinsing, both of them beet red and avoiding eye contact. The pitch of the moans rises as they get into their pajamas, both trying very hard to dissociate or ideally astral project, culminating in a wordless shout, followed immediately by more shushing from Patrick as Rachel comes down from what was clearly an intense orgasm.

"Well," Clint says after a couple minutes of silence, the older couple lying awkwardly still, side-by-side in their bed. "At least one of us had a very happy holiday."

" _Clinton!_ " Marcy says sharply but quietly, landing a firm smack on his upper arm as he shakes with laughter.

Neither of them say a word about it when they send her off the next morning with some leftovers and a travel mug of coffee for her hangover.

~~5~~

It's the third day Patrick's been home since "taking a break" from his fiancée, and it's the most restless Marcy has seen him in a long time. He never deals well with his fights with Rachel, but usually he just kind of... mopes idly and tries to win back her approval however he can. This time it feels different, like he's trying to distract himself from thinking about her at all.

Marcy thinks that must be progress, but she's not really sure. Her fights with Clint never went like this.

The doorbell rings not long after dinner, and when she answers, it's Rachel standing there, bleary-eyed and holding herself even smaller than she really is.

"Hi, Marcy," she says quietly.

"Hi, sweetie. Come in."

Rachel looks relieved as she steps into the living room, and Marcy's heart breaks a little for her. She hopes she knows how loved she is here, independently of her relationship with Patrick. She rubs her shoulder gently, hoping to convey some of that to her.

"I think he's up in his room. Do you want me to—?"

"Could you?" Rachel asks meekly.

"No problem, sweetheart," Marcy says, and she goes up and knocks on Patrick's door.

"Come in," he says from the other side, and she does.

"Rachel's here. Shall I send her up?" It's a question, but her tone makes it clear that there's a correct answer.

After a few seconds of thought, Patrick nods. "Okay, Mom."

She smiles and heads back downstairs. She gives Rachel's shoulder another squeeze, then tells her to go on up with what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

She doesn't hear a peep from either of them the rest of the night, but when she gets up in the morning, Rachel's car is still in the driveway, and she thinks that must be a good sign, at least.

~~+1~~

Marcy wishes she had been able to spend more than just a weekend with David before Patrick proposed to him, but she doesn't begrudge her son his journey or its pace, so she's thrilled just to finally have her future son-in-law in her home, getting to know his fiancé's family, old friends and home town.

She delights in breaking out old photo albums, seeing David's face light up seeing little freckled Patrick and his auburn curls sticking out from under his hat in his Little League pictures. She'd never done this with Rachel because his teenaged ego had been too fragile when they'd started dating, but now he's in his thirties and, well, he'll survive.

She makes lasagna, and David tells her about how Patrick asked him to make it for him when he was high on anesthesia after having his wisdom teeth removed. She watches the casual intimacy between the two of them as they help her out in the kitchen, sweet little touches on the arm or shoulder, like they can't bear to not be touching in some way for too long. She wonders how she could have ever been so blind to not realize that this was what her boy needed. She loves Rachel, she always will, but it's so plain now that their relationship was simply a friendship they were trying to brutally force into being more.

 _"Thank you for loving my boy,"_ she had said to David before leaving Schitt's Creek, and she feels it just as fiercely now.

After dinner, a _Great British Baking Show_ half-marathon, and an excited talk about wedding plans, Patrick starts yawning.

David gently rubs his back. "Looks like someone's ready for bed."

"Well, _someone_ drove all the way here," Patrick volleys back.

"I know. Thank you, honey," David says with a kiss to Patrick's temple.

"Why don't you two head up?" Marcy suggests. "And take some fresh towels from the laundry basket—I haven't had a chance to bring them up yet."

"Okay, Mom," Patrick says. "Thanks." He gives her a hug and kiss goodnight before doing the same with his dad. David isn't sure whether to follow suit until Marcy grabs him for a hug.

Clint stays up to watch more baking, but Marcy goes to bed not long after the boys.

She'd forgotten how thin the walls were between their room and Patrick's, but she's starkly reminded when she hears telltale sex noises from that direction while she gets ready for bed.

She thinks, while she's rummaging for her earbuds, that she ought to be grateful for small miracles like the fact that she can't tell which of them is doing all the moaning and groaning, until—

" _Fuck_ , David! Fuck me, please..."

David shushes him and laughs, and oh god _, where are her earbuds?!_

"Oh, _fuck_ , I need you!"

"Mmm, I know, honey, but we have to be quiet."

Patrick whines.

"You can be a good boy and be quiet for me, can't you?"

Marcy swallows a gasp and gives up her search, all but running out of the bedroom down the stairs to join her husband, hoping they won't be able to hear anything from the living room at least.

Clint looks up at her, surprised. "Forget something?"

Marcy blushes as she sits down next to him. "Well, I forgot how thin the walls are _and_ where I put my earbuds."

Clint looks confused for a second before the relevance dawns on him. "Ohh," he says. "Remember when we heard Rachel—?"

"Don't remind me," says Marcy, turning up the volume on the TV a bit, just in case.

They watch the rest of the episode in silence, but Marcy speaks again as the end credits start.

"You know... not that I want to have heard, but... it sounded like Patrick is the, uh, vocal one in this relationship."

"Jesus, Marcy!"

"I'm just saying... all that time, with Rachel, the few times we _did_ hear something, it was never _him_. I wish I'd found out a different way, but I'm... I'm happy he sounds... satisfied."

Clint snorts.

"I'm serious!" she says. "I'm glad our son has a... happy, healthy sex life."

Clint laughs. "Me too, I suppose."

"Even if it does mean I'm not going to bed for _at least_ another episode."


End file.
